Cautionary Tales
by Muggle Jane
Summary: A (potential) collection of fairy-tale inspired one-shots in the Harry Potter 'verse. Please mind the rating, as a lot of fairy tales were originally written for adults.
1. Little Red Riding Hood

**A/N: I claim no ownership of characters or canon situations.**

**A (hopefully) collection of fairy-tales-meets-Harry-Potter. Originally, a lot of fairy tales were written for adults with themes of sex and violence and were pretty non-child-friendly. And that inspired... This!**

**Little Red Riding Hood**

Padma settled her red cloak around her shoulders in a somewhat disgruntled manner. It was time for the monthly visit to her grandmother, and this month the duty fell to her. It did most months; Parvati usually had to work, and Padma suspected that her sister had a habit of requesting to work on this day.

She picked up the basket of things she was taking; a few potions for arthritis, a new book, and some fresh sweet buns that she'd baked just that morning. And then, picking up her wand, she went outside to Apparate.

It wasn't the actual visits with her grandmother that she objected to. Gran was good company and had fascinating stories, if she tended to be a little long-winded and repeat herself. No, what Padma objected to was the walk. The elderly witch lived at the back of a rather large estate that had been completely enchanted with the Anti-Apparation Jinx. And because the estate was mostly neglected, every month the walk seemed to be a little more treacherous; the path just a little more overgrown and the trees just a little thicker. It seemed silly, after everything they had been through during the war, but she found the walk to her grandmother's house just a little creepy.

She Apparated to just outside the old estate, the basket settled in the crook of her arm, and her wand out in front of her. Dad kept saying that he would hire someone to come out here and do some maintenance, but it was one of those things that he just never quite got around to doing.

It was no coincidence that she'd timed her visits to occur during the brightest hours of the day. The path was shadowy and unforgiving in the hours surrounding noon, she had absolutely no intention of being caught out there after dark.

And so she walked. She used her wand to get rid of the vegetation that was actually obstructing her path, but it seemed like the brambles and low-hanging tree branches were plucking at the crimson fabric of her cloak. Which, of course, was why she was wearing this particular cloak. If Parvati was going to shirk her responsibilities, Padma was going to make sure that any damage that was done to her clothing while she did her familial duty was done to her sister's clothing instead of her own. Scarlet wasn't really her color.

The sensation of being watched as she walked along this path wasn't exactly a new one. It was part of what made the journey creepy- the idea that she was being watched by unseen eyes. It never failed to make her pick up her pace a little, and she did so now.

What was new, was the large shape of someone standing in front of her on the path. He just appeared like he'd sprung up out of the ground, staring at her like he was waiting for her. There was something familiar about the large, rough-looking man. He had a lot of hair, gray and hanging loosely about him. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and the dingy shirt straining across his chest like it didn't quite fit him was open to reveal almost a pelt of the same silvery-gray hair across his torso.

She stopped, wand still held loosely in front of her. There was something about him that made her heart skip a beat. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, mentally cheering herself for keeping her tone pleasant and even.

His eyes moved over her in a disconcertingly thorough fashion before settling on the basket on her arm. "I'm ever so hungry, sweet." His tongue, startlingly red against his browned, weathered skin, came out and licked his lips. "Spare some food for a weary traveler?" His voice was rough too, deep and gravelly like he didn't use it often.

She glanced down in the basket and back up at him. She'd stopped about two meters away from him and he hadn't made any move to come closer to her. "Certainly." She extracted one of the buns from the basket and held it out. They were too far apart for him to take it from her from where he was, and perhaps sensing her unease, he only held out his hand and made no move towards her.

She stared at him for a moment, then mentally admonished herself for her nonsense. She was just being silly. There was no sense to her being scared, he was just a man. She didn't even know if he was a wizard. Padma moved towards him and placed the bun in his outstretched hand. His fingers closed over it before she released it, brushing against her skin. He was so warm, the heat of his fingers seemed to almost scald her, and she snatched her hand away like she'd been burned.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She looked at him expectantly. The path was narrow, and he was very broad- not fat, just large- to the point that he was completely obstructing her from moving forward. If he didn't move, she was going to have to push through the brambles.

He lifted the bun to his mouth and took a bite, his fierce yellow eyes locked on hers. "Did you make this?"

She nodded. She couldn't look away from the amber gaze, she seemed rooted to the spot. A tiny voice in the back of her head urged her to turn and flee, but she couldn't.

"Delicious." At last, he moved aside, turning to allow some room between him and the brambles that lined the path.

She hesitated for a moment, then moved quickly past him, intent on getting to the small house her grandmother lived in just as quickly as possible. She heard his heavy footsteps behind her, and she fought down the urge to turn around.

"What's a sweet little thing like you doing out here?" he asked after they'd only gone a few steps.

"Visiting family," she told him. She could almost feel the weight of his eyes on her back. After a few more steps, she whirled around. "Look," she started, but the words died in her throat. He was gone just as suddenly and as silently as he'd appeared. She shook herself a little. "You're being silly," she whispered, and then turned back to complete her journey.

She couldn't quite shake the feeling of being watched. She reached the little clearing that marked the start of her grandmother's garden, and she couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as she crossed to the door and knocked.

The door was ajar, though, and it swung open from the pressure of her hands. She swallowed heavily before stepping inside, peering about. "Hello?" she called.

She wasn't entirely surprised to see the large man walk in from the bedroom in the back. There was no sign of her grandmother. She swallowed against the wave of fear that threatened to rise up, and lifted her wand to point it directly at him. "Who are you?"

"I am a man. At least, I was at some point."

His words didn't comfort her at all. She stayed where she was, shoulders squared and head held high as he stalked towards her, moving a lot like a predator. Which made her... "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. I'm still hungry, sweet." He stopped in front of her and looked down at her for a moment. He was almost overwhelmingly large at this point, and he smelled of dirt and something she couldn't put her finger on.

She stared resolutely straight forward, her eyes locked on the silvery hairs in the center of his chest. "Where's my gran?"

"Not here." He moved around behind her, close enough that she felt him brush against her sister's red cloak. She felt his heat as he leaned over her, and fought not to move as his head settled in the crook of her neck. She heard him inhale deeply. "You were here last month."

"Yes." Her voice wavered for the first time.

"Your scent..." She felt him nudging her long plait aside and then his teeth closed firmly over the back of her neck, making her emit a sound that was caught between squeak and a moan.

She knew where she recognized him from. The last time she'd seen him, he was tearing out chunks of Lavender's flesh with his teeth. "Are you going to kill me?"

The pressure eased, and she found she'd been holding her breath. "Not right now."

"Did you kill Gran?"

"Yes." He moved back around in front of her. One of his large hands gripped her plait, pulling, forcing her head back to look up into his face. "She was hardly a mouthful. Old, tough. Barely worth eating."

She found her eyes locked again on his. "What big eyes you have."

The yellow orbs scanned over her face. "The better to see you with, sweet."

She was aware of his free hand coming to rest on her hip, his fingers and elongated fingernails digging in through the layers of cloak and her trousers. "What large hands you have."

"The better to feel you with." His hand slid around to her backside, the rough skin and fingernails catching on the smooth fabric of Parvati's cloak. "Hardly any meat on you, is there?"

His words caused her gaze to focus on his sharp teeth, bared by what she supposed was a grin. "What sharp teeth you have."

He lowered his head and nipped at the side of her neck, his teeth scraping along her skin. "The better to eat you with. So sweet." He sounded almost reverential.

She closed her eyes, her free hand balling into a fist. She pointed the tip of her wand at him. "Stu-"

He plucked it easily out of her hand. "None of that." He sounded amused that she'd even tried. She'd had to try. She wished she'd tried sooner.

"Please let me go." It was barely more than a whisper.

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I need a mate. And you..." She felt the wetness of his tongue slide up the side of her neck, from her shoulder to her earlobe. "You are here."

"You can't- I can't-"

The sound of him inhaling again cut her off. "I caught your scent when you were here last month, sweet. I knew it would be you."

"Someone will come to find me."

"That's why we're not staying."

She opened her eyes and was confronted by his hard shoulder. "Where are we going?"

"Not far." He straightened, slipping her wand into his pocket, which surprised her a little. His hands fell away from her, and then he offered one to her.

She eyed it for a moment. She didn't really have any other option. "If I'm to be your mate, I should at least know your name."

He stared at her silently in that unblinking way he had, and at last she put her hand into his.

"Greyback. Fenrir Greyback. Come along, sweet."

She let him draw her from the small house. They couldn't go far. Someone would come for her.


	2. Beauty and the Beast

**Beauty and the Beast**

"Lily?"

The sound of her father's voice pulled her away from her book. "Yes?" she called back. He didn't answer right away, so she went through the old hallways of the house until she came to the library. Her dad was sitting there with a full glass of something, staring into the fire with a faraway look in his eyes, the flames reflecting off of his glasses. That was odd, Dad rarely drank, and never before dinner.

"What is it?" she asked, sinking down into one of the old elegant wing chairs that sat to either side of the sofa. Something was wrong.

He hesitated, taking a long drink before looking at her and offering a weak smile. "Lily, I need to ask you a favor."

"Of course, anything." She knew her dad loved her and her brothers equally, but she knew that she and Dad shared a special bond.

He grimaced at her words, quickly hiding the expression behind his glass again. He was deeply, deeply troubled. "I need you to go to this address tomorrow." He fished in his pocket for a moment, then handed her a bit of paper with an address scrawled in someone else's writing.

She frowned at the address. Wiltshire? What was in Wiltshire? "Why?"

He sighed heavily, turning his green eyes back to the fire. "There's a man there who needs your help." The words fell with a terrible weight that somehow meant more than their actual meaning.

It was her turn to frown, her eyebrows coming together as she watched him. "With what?"

"I can't tell you that." His face twisted into a humorless smile when she opened her mouth to ask more questions. "Believe me, I know how frustrating it is to hear that. But... This is..." He stared into the fire, memories shrouding him like a veil of fog. And then he shook his head and looked at her again, his eyes filled with the strangest look. Was that... sympathy? "I've been working on this particular problem for years now. This is the only option, and Merlin's balls, I wish it wasn't."

"What am I supposed to do there?" she asked politely, fighting down the temper she'd inherited from Mum at her frustration. Dad so rarely asked things of her, and from the amount of trouble it was giving him, this was very hard for him to ask. It must be very, _very_ important, even though he couldn't tell her anything.

"I don't know." He was frowning again, at his glass this time. About half of its contents had disappeared. "I suppose he'll tell you."

"A... maid?"

Dad laughed, just a touch bitterly. "A maid? No. He has house-elves."

"Oh."

He must have picked up on her tone, because his eyes were at once sympathetic as he looked up to her again. "I know this is a lot to ask. I wish there were another way. _Any_ other way. You'll need to stay with him, I'm afraid. But his house is quite large and very comfortable, and I understand the library is big enough to make Aunt Hermione cry with jealousy."

"I... see," she said stiffly. She didn't see. She wished she could bring herself to say no, but the words wouldn't come. "You can't tell me anything, Dad? Please?"

"There's a curse. No danger to you, of course, but he needs your help with it." Dad's hand closed tightly enough around the stem of his glass that it snapped, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Does Mum know?"

He nodded, the motion of his head jerky. "She knows," was all he said. Silence fell between them, punctuated only by his long gulps as he finished his drink, and the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. "I'll see you off in the morning," he said at last, and she could only nod.

* * *

The next morning, she found herself holding a suitcase, and standing outside black iron gates in front of the largest house she'd ever seen in person. Rose and Scorpius' house was fairly large, but this was ridiculous. And one man lived here? She wrinkled her nose. Maybe she wouldn't even see him. This looked like the type of house she could quite literally get lost in.

She tried the gates, expecting to be locked out, and was quite surprised when they swung inwards with an audible creak, granting her access to the long drive. Brown leaves had been swept from the cold stone walk, leaving it bare and wet in the gray autumn morning.

She started walking. Hedges lined the drive, and in the distance, she could hear the call of some sort of bird. It was all just a little bit forbidding. "You were a Gryffindor," she murmured to herself. "Bloody act like it." She'd finished school just the previous June, and had been looking forward to starting Auror training with Dad and Albus this fall. Hopefully she'd be done here in time. Dad knew how much she'd been looking forward to it, he wouldn't have committed her to something that would prevent her from starting... would he?

At length she reached the immense front door. It loomed before her, daunting and dark, and it took a moment before she was able to bring up her hand to knock.

There was no answer for long enough that she was just about ready to turn and head back down the drive to Apparate home, when the door opened to reveal a wizened house-elf, glaring up at her with large, rheumy eyes. "The Potter girl?" the house-elf squeaked, and Lily nodded. "Come in. The master awaits."

That hardly sounded promising. She stepped over the threshold onto a dark, rich carpet, and couldn't help but stare around in wonder. In addition to 'large' and 'comfortable,' apparently the house was also 'extravagantly decorated.' She'd barely entered the foyer, and already the house was beautiful. The carpet covering most of the stone floor was a dark gray diamond pattern, the walls were sumptuously papered with cream and silver, and lined with the portraits of pale blonds who looked suspiciously like her cousin's husband, all whispering and murmuring to each other as they watched her.

Bony fingers brushed against her own, causing her to start as the house-elf pried the suitcase out of her hand. "Come," he ordered, walking down the long hall to where a bronze-handled door stood ajar at the end. She followed, staring agape at the furnishings and artwork that they passed. Dad was wealthy, the house in Grimmauld Place was elegant and comfortable, but this... This was beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of.

After a time, and a path she couldn't hope to retrace if she'd tried, they reached a closed door. This wasn't the first closed door they'd seen, but it somehow seemed more foreboding. The house-elf knocked briefly before pushing it open. "Miss Potter," he announced.

The room within was dark, lit only by a fire burning low in the fireplace. Heavy curtains shrouded the windows from outside, and dark furniture cast long shadows into the darkness. "Thank you," she offered, but the house-elf was already gone. The master of the house was inside, she supposed, and she pushed down her nerves and stepped within. "Hello?" she asked softly, her voice hushed in deference to the dimness of the room.

"Miss Potter," came an elegant drawl from a chair close to the fire. The owner of the voice was masked in shadows, but there was something very familiar about the careful tones.

"Yes." She balled up her fist against her side, trying to quell her temper. She was just about done with all of this mystery and secrecy. She'd just about had her fill. "And to whom do I have the pleasure of acquainting myself?" It came out a little more snappy than she'd intended, but she let it stand.

A low chuckle filled the room. "You are your mother's daughter, aren't you?" he mused. She'd just opened her mouth to make a retort, but he continued. "My name is Draco Malfoy." The man in the chair rose, somehow keeping the top half of himself cloaked in shadows. She could see him moving through the room towards her, and then one pale hand extended out of the darkness.

After a moment, she placed her hand in his. "You're... You're Scorpius' father."

"Indeed," he agreed, lifting her hand, and then she felt the cool brush of his lips across her knuckles.

Silence fell between them, as thick as the curtains that covered the windows. After a while, she spoke. "Dad said you needed my help with something." She tugged on her hand, trying to regain it, but his grip on her fingers tightened, keeping her there.

"I do, more's the pity."

She waited for him to elaborate. When he said nothing else, she frowned at where she supposed his face to be. "And...?"

"I'll have Glower show you to your room. I shall see you at dinner."

* * *

Her room was beautiful. The windows opened over the back garden, showing trees and flowers and a fountain, with benches and a gazebo off to the side. The neat brown grass was noticeably leaf-free, despite the many deciduous trees about the grounds, obviously well cared for.

Soft grey carpeting stretched across the floor, keeping away the chill from the stone beneath. The walls were covered in light purple and grey, bordered in silver. The bed was enormous by anyone's standards, she almost had to jump to climb on top of it. And soft, it was so soft. The lilac-colored cover of the duvet was silky and smooth, and she just wanted to roll in it.

There was a rich mahogany desk and a matching wardrobe, and an elegant door leading into a bathroom with both a large shower and a deep tub, and a toilet and a bidet. Counters with sinks and a sprawling mirror lined one wall, the fixtures all gleaming silver. It was incredible.

Her day was filled with unpacking, and then she set out exploring the grounds outside. It was only drizzling a little, not really rainy, and it was spectacularly beautiful, though somehow haunted and lonely.

Glower, the house-elf who'd met her at the door, came to fetch her for dinner. The dining room was proportionately immense, with a long dining table that could have easily seated her entire family, all of the aunts and uncles and cousins and kids. And there was Draco Malfoy, seated at the head of the table. He hadn't attended Rose and Scorpius' wedding, and Scorpius didn't talk about him much, only saying that his father was lonely and rumored to be under some kind of curse, and he didn't have any information on it. He hadn't seen his father in years, though they owled each other. Lily couldn't imagine not seeing Dad regularly.

She was seated at the opposite end, far enough away that she was sure she was going to have to yell down to him if she wanted to speak. Dinner appeared in front of them, much like it had at Hogwarts, and he lifted his glass to her before immediately tucking in.

She stared at him for a moment, then picked up her plate and utensils and glass, and marched up the length of the table to seat herself at his right. "Hi there," she said with a smile, settling into her new place.

He looked somewhat taken aback to see her there. This close, it was easy to see that he looked a lot like Scorpius did, but there was a very weary set to his cold grey eyes, and a grey pallor to his skin. And he looked... Well, he looked as old as Gran, more fit to be Scorpius' grandfather than father. "What are you doing?"

"I thought that I was supposed to join you for dinner. I didn't bring my omnioculars, so I figured I should probably come and sit with you so we could actually eat together." She gave him a grin and started eating.

His laughter startled her, and from the look on his face, it startled him as well. Indeed, he looked like he hardly ever smiled. "Why?" he asked after a time.

"I don't know if you've noticed, Mr Malfoy, but this house is very large, and there don't seem to be too many people here. I'm supposed to help you with something that no one will tell me about, for a length of time that no one will tell me, and it's probably going to get very lonely if you insist on eating in a separate county from me." She looked at him frankly, studying the tired lines of his face. He was the same age as her dad was, she knew, but he sure didn't look like it. "I'm stuck here, and you seem just about as thrilled about it as I am, but I think we should at least try to make the best of the situation."

He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking back and forth between her own. "Are you always this determinedly optimistic?"

"As often as I can be," she replied quickly.

"Gryffindor?"

"Of course. That's a silly question." She pushed her long, red hair behind her shoulder. "You can't let your House define you- besides, neither one of us is in school anymore."

Dinner was quiet, she wasn't used to that. At home she had her brothers, and Mum and Dad, and her cousins dropped by fairly often. There was always talking and laughter, everyone just generally having a good time. Mr Malfoy looked like he didn't even remember what a good time was.

The food was good, at least, and pudding was a delicious fruit pie. She forked the last crumbs into her mouth, and looked at her host for a long moment. "Thank you for a lovely meal, Mr Malfoy. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?" It came out as a question instead of a statement.

"Walk with me," he said, surprising her. And, again, seeming to surprise himself.

"All right."

He stood and offered her his arm, which she stood up and took after just a second or two. It was fully dark outside now, and she was going to need her cloak if he was going to take her on a tour of the grounds. Instead, however, he showed her around the house.

The library was just as beautiful as Dad said it was, and she actually squealed when she saw it. She was aware of Mr Malfoy watching her as she eagerly moved around the room, running her finger along the spines of books older than she was. Older than Gran was, even. She could easily lose herself in here. On impulse, she threw her arms around her host as she went past him, embracing him briefly before moving on to keep looking at the wonderful room.

* * *

Her stay at Malfoy Manor passed more quickly than she thought it would. During the day, she would pass her time in the library, or roaming around the grounds. She discovered an old Quidditch pitch beyond the back garden, and had Dad send her broom to her. It was so easy to pretend she was back at Hogwarts, flying with the Quidditch team. She'd been a Chaser, just like Mum.

She was surprised the first day that Mr Malfoy joined her in flight. He took to a broom as well as she had, she supposed that he'd used the Quidditch pitch himself when he was younger. That was one of the rare times that he would smile. His face would light up and years would be erased from his skin until he looked younger again, like Dad.

And they would eat together every night. After the first night, her plate was always set to his right, and every night after they finished eating, they would go for a walk. Sometimes inside the house, sometimes outside the house.

He still hadn't told her what she was doing there. Dad didn't either, although she flooed him and they owled back-and-forth regularly. He would just ask how she was doing, and how Mr Malfoy was doing, and then change the subject so that they weren't talking about it at all.

Mr Malfoy was... a puzzle. She made it her personal mission to make him smile and laugh, and every time she did, she counted it as a personal victory. She started looking forward to their dinners together, the way he would offer her his arm for their walks afterward. She would even go so far as to call them friends, although he rarely shared anything about himself. They talked often, though, she told him about her childhood, her time at school. They discovered they shared a love of potions, and spent quite a lot of time in conversation- and sometimes debate- about it. He was intelligent and, on rare occasions, witty, and his ability to draw a laugh from her surprised both of them.

She knew from Dad that he'd had a hard time of it when he was just a bit younger than her, and that the war that they'd been in had changed it. But he refused to talk about it, simply staring at her with those haunted grey eyes until she changed the subject or looked away.

The year's first snowfall startled her. Lily had lost track of time in the lavish house. She'd missed out on joining the Aurors for training that year, but the idea didn't bother her as much as she thought it would. Her initial response was anger, but then she thought about leaving, about abandoning Mr Malfoy in the large old house, and her anger just faded away. She would miss him if she left. It felt strange that she had come to consider him a friend, given their age difference and the background that he'd shared with her dad, but she genuinely enjoyed the time she spent with him. His smooth voice, his knowing smirk, the rare smiles and laughter she coaxed out of him. It was hard not to feel for him, stuck on his own in this massive house.

They were eating dinner the next night, and Mr Malfoy looked especially withdrawn. All attempts to ask him what was wrong were ignored. "I suppose you'll be going home for Christmas," he said.

Home. She frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. She hadn't really thought about it. "I suppose so," she said slowly. Part of her didn't want to. Part of her wanted to stay at the Manor and have Christmas morning with Mr Malfoy, and give him silly gifts from Uncle George's shop until he laughed and shook his head in that way he did.

"You needn't come back after," he said, shocking her.

"What? Why not?" She'd thought it was a foregone conclusion that she'd resume living in the big old house after Boxing Day.

"I shall no longer require your assistance." The words fell heavy and flat between him. He sounded... Disappointed. Regretful, even.

She stared at him. "But I haven't even done anything, Mr Malfoy."

"You've done more than you'll ever know." His tone made her look at him, really look at him, and he looked even older than he had before, more tired than she'd ever seen him. He refused to say anything more about it, and their walk that evening was tense and silent, filled with all of the questions he wouldn't answer.

Christmas Eve morning, after they'd finished their coffee, he took her hand and brushed another kiss across her knuckles, a heavy weight in his eyes. He pressed a package into her hands, and bade her not open it until she was home. He walked her to the end of the drive, his eyes locked on hers as she Apparated away.

* * *

Christmas was the same as it always was- loud and happy, filled with family and friends, and love and laughter. She knew Dad was watching her, and there was a sense of the same heaviness she'd felt from Mr Malfoy, and her own smiles didn't even reach her eyes. Dad noticed, even though no one else did, but he didn't say anything about it. It all seemed just a bit much after the quiet of the Manor, and she found herself sticking to the outskirts of the party instead of in the thick of it with her cousins and her brothers.

That evening, after a delicious Christmas dinner, she was alone in her room, and she opened the gift Mr Malfoy had given her. It was a hand mirror, smooth dark wood edged in silver, with an _L_ engraved on the back. There was no note, no card, just the mirror. She stared into it until she fell asleep, watching her brown eyes in the mirror.

She spent the week visiting with family she hadn't seen in months, laughing and socializing, but it always felt like something was missing. She knew what was missing- or rather, who. She couldn't even imagine the loneliness of spending Christmas by himself in that big house, with only the house-elves to keep him company.

New Year's Eve meant a party. All of the family would be there to bring in the new year. Lily was up in her room, staring into the mirror Mr Malfoy had given her. Instead of her own reflection, however, someone else was there. The face was... He looked older than any of the portraits in the Headmaster's office had, but those eyes... The grey eyes were the same. Lonely, empty, haunted.

Clutching the mirror tightly to her, she went downstairs to where people had already gathered to bring in the new year together. "James, where's Dad?"

Her oldest brother shrugged and continued off to whatever he was going to do. It didn't take long to find Dad, though, standing with Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. He smile faded when he saw her, and he excused himself to make his way to her side.

"What is it?" he asked, like he already knew the answer.

"I have to go, Dad. I have to see Mr Malfoy."

"I know," was all he said.

Lily pulled her cloak down from the stand beside the door and stepped outside onto the front step to Apparate out to Wiltshire. She didn't even have to push on it, the gate just opened for her, and she ran up the drive to the house.

She was breathing heavily from exertion by the time she got there, and again, she didn't have to knock before the door swung open, seemingly on its own. She dropped the cloak carelessly on the ground and moved through the house that had used to seem like a maze, letting instinct guide her feet.

The library. The fire in the fireplace had burned low, and she could see Mr Malfoy's long legs stretched out towards it from where he sat in the tall wing chair. She went over to him, sinking down on the floor beside him, peering up into his face.

His eyes were closed, he was so still, it barely seemed like he was breathing. "Mr Malfoy," she whispered. "Mr Malfoy, wake up."

He didn't move.

She pulled him from his seat. He was lighter than a man his age should have been, like all of his bones were hollow. She cradled him awkwardly in her lap. He was as tall as Dad was, but she held him against her, holding his head gently against her shoulder. "Mr Malfoy," she whispered. "Please wake up."

He didn't stir. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he die alone in his big empty house. He wasn't a monster, he was just a man- a lonely man who looked far older than he should have.

Tears gathered in her eyes and dripped unheeded from her nose as she bent over him, holding him tightly.

"Don't die," she whispered. "You can't die. I've missed you. I've missed flying with you and talking about Quidditch, and even when you give me that look that means you think I'm being silly." She wasn't aware of time passing, but she could hear the grandfather clock in the hall begin to ring its midnight call. "Please don't die, Draco. Don't die. I love you, and love is supposed to be the strongest magic there is." That was one of the first things Dad had taught her, and had been repeated often in her young life. And it was true. Despite the difference in their ages, despite his physical appearance, despite everything, she loved him. Her heart was aching at the thought of him dying. She closed her eyes and bent her head until her forehead rested against his.

Her arms were getting tired from holding him, but still she held on. He was stirring- he was moving! And then... Lips, warm and full pressed against her own. He was kissing her. He was kissing her?

She pulled away, her arms falling away, making him knock his head against the floor. "Ooh, sorry!" she exclaimed, but he was laughing.

He looked younger than she'd ever seen him, his hair thick and blond, his face mostly unlined. Pale and healthy instead of grey and drawn. And happy, he looked so happy.

He caught her hand and pulled her down until she was resting against his chest. "You did it," he marveled, his hand settling behind her head and urging her down to pepper kisses across her lips. "You broke the curse, Lily."

She pulled away again, sitting flat on her backside, frowning at him. "What curse? What are you talking about? I mean, obviously you look, you know, your age again. But what the hell are you talking about?"

Her angry demands didn't even phase him. "I was cursed. Long ago, just after Scorpius was born. My wife felt..." He scowled, not at her but at his memories. "She felt I didn't love her enough. I very likely didn't. She cursed me, she told me I had twenty years to turn hate into love, or I would simply fade away. But you..." He raised himself into a sitting position, and reached out until his hands closed over her arms. "You did it." He pulled her across his legs until she was nestled against him, his arms closing around her. "You saved me."

He was kissing her again, and she fought her will to fight against him. She'd never felt a kiss like this before, his lips moving expertly over hers. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity, until she was light-headed and breathless. Somehow, she ended up on her back on the thick carpet, with him braced over her, his hand gently tracing the angles of her face, the line of her neck. And then his lips left hers, searching out the rest of her body, his nimble fingers quickly pulling apart her clothes.

* * *

Dad wasn't surprised when he flooed her the next day, and she told him that she was moving back into the manor house. He smiled somewhat grimly. "I'm glad you were able to break the curse," he told her, but it seemed bittersweet for him. "You see why it had to be you, don't you?"

She nodded. "You hated each other when you were in school, didn't you?" She remembered the stories. They'd settled their differences as soon as school had been over, there was a Christmas card in the home every year from the Malfoy family. But their childhood had been different, filled with animosity.

"Yes. And Rose, of course, had already married his son." Love from hate. It had to be her. Dad had mentioned that he'd been working on this for years, but apparently there just wasn't another solution.

"I hope you're happy." He was sincere, though slightly sad.

Draco settled down on the floor beside her, taking her hand in his own. "Thanks, Potter. Second time you saved my life."

"You're welcome, Malfoy. Third, if you remember correctly. You treat her well, or I'll be knocking on your door." There was an underlying hardness in his voice, it was not an empty threat.

"Dad!" Lily protested, and Draco chuckled.

"Come for dinner next weekend, Potter. Bring the family."

"Right. I'll owl." Her dad bid them goodbye, and then the fireplace was empty.

Draco pulled her against him, his lips moving over hers. "Am I treating you well?" he asked when he pulled away, just faintly mocking, and she gave him a wicked grin.

"Well, you were, but then you stopped," she returned cheekily.

Their lips met again, and he lowered her back to the carpet, a glint of purpose in his eyes.


End file.
